Bravery
by sevenbucketsof
Summary: "Kurt smiled softly and he carefully pushed a few curls out of Blaine's eyes as he stood up. Blaine didn't think he'd seen eyes looking that lonely ever before.   'Now isn't our time' he said, very calmly, as if his word didn't affect him at all."
1. A brave man

**Author's note: **Trolololol, hi, guess who forgot to put all this jazz here when she posted this and then fled the Internet. Yup.  
>So, okay, the beginning of this is set in a verse where Kurt never transferred to Dalton, but the whole Jeremiah and Rachel thing happened and uhm, yeah.<p>

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of it's characters. This is all fiction. :)

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><p>Blaine Anderson was not new to difficult situations. There was a reason he had fled to Dalton, and the school's education program wasn't really why he'd chosen to go there, no matter how much he tried to convince himself exactly that. No, Blaine had chosen to run instead of confronting his fears and his tormentors. Not that it really was a bad idea, seeing how he was constantly covered in bruises and cuts. He just kind of wished he could run this time, too.<p>

Slowly, he knocked on the door of the Hudmel household.

Blaine had practically lived with Kurt and his family the last couple of months, so he'd long ago learnt to recognise whoever about to get the door by the sound of their footsteps, so even before the door got pulled open and an excited Finn Hudson showed up, he'd raised his fist.

"Hey, man!" Finn greeted him, bumping Blaine's fist with a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.  
>"Hello, Finn. Is Kurt home?" he asked, polite as ever, his voice only slightly strained.<br>"Oh yeah, he's in his room. Hey, you wanna watch the game with me and Burt tonight?" Finn babbled on, and Blaine shook his head no.  
>"I don't really have time. I… I just need to talk to Kurt" Blaine answered, already heading upstairs, shoes and jacket still on.<p>

He knocked on Kurt's door, wanting nothing more than to burst into the room, sweep the slender figure that was his best friend off the floor and hold him close. However, just the mere thought of doing so was insane, so Blaine just waited and when Kurt showed up he just grinned at him, not letting any of his desperate need and wanting show in his eyes.

Kurt, looking surprised, although pleasantly so, raised a single eyebrow.  
>"Blaine" he breathed, voice gentle as ever. He was already dressed in dark blue silk pyjamas, which, Blaine noticed, made his eyes look bigger and more piercing than he remembered them.<br>"Hi there" he replied, somewhat baffled, as his drank in the sight of Kurt, his hands, his legs, his hair, his nose, his exposed neck, his lips. _Oh God, those lips!_ He forced his gaze away from Kurt's lip and looked into his eyes, and just as he was about to reach out to touch his face, Kurt smiled at him.  
>"It's not like you haven't seen this before' he snickered, walking over to his bed. Blaine followed, closing the door. At this point he didn't care about Burt and his rules. His eyes were unfocused, and he was holding onto his scarf so tightly that his knuckles whitened.<br>_This is it_, he thought_, this is the time_. He could hear Kurt talking, heard his voice, but was unable to actually listen to what he said.

"Kurt" he interrupted, "I need to tell you something and … and you can't freak out, you can't, you have to promise".

Kurt looked up at Blaine, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. He looked pale, as if he were about to be sick. Or maybe he was just nervous; afraid of Kurt's reaction to whatever it was that he needed to say. Blaine glared at his feet, his head hanging just slightly.

_Could it… No_, Kurt thought, he did probably want Blaine to realise that they were perfect for each other so much it made him imagine things. It just _couldn't_ be why he was there now, in Kurt's bedroom, biting his bottom lip. Because, if it was, Blaine wouldn't look that devastated, would he? He hoped not.  
>"Uhm, okay, sure. Go ahead?" he said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. His stomach tightened, he just didn't want to know what Blaine had to tell him, certain it had something to do with him. Looking at his eyes, wide and oh so sad, he almost suspected that Blaine would tell him that he was really sorry, but they just can't be friends anymore because he doesn't feel the way Kurt does and it just makes it weird, but he swears it's not Kurt, it's him, all Blaine and that he was all kinds of great, but he just couldn't do this anymore.<p>

He did certainly not expect Blaine to tremble and stumble forwards to him, arms reaching out for him. He did not expect to see tears on his cheeks, his face scrunched up as if in horrible pain. "_Kurt_" he choked out, his chest aching.  
>Without thinking Kurt pulled the shorter boy to him, wrapped his arms around the violently shaking body of the one he loved. Sitting there, listening to Blaine's sobs, not being able to anything but hold him tight, patting his hair, whispering softly in an attempt to calm him down, it felt like his heart was breaking.<p>

Blaine didn't know what had happened. He was terrified, but he was going to tell him, he really was. But Kurt's insecure voiced had pushed him over the edge, and he cried like he'd never done before and everything hurt. He reached out, needing to be hold, to be soothed, to breathe.

He didn't know how long he was wrapped up in Kurt's arms, but he did stop crying. He sniffed pathetically, burrowing his face in the now soaked pyjamas shirt. Kurt didn't say anything; he just gently caressed his back.  
>Blaine squeezed him lightly before pulling away, still glaring down.<br>"I... I'm sorry, Kurt, I just…' he began lamely, but Kurt pressed a finger to his lips.  
>"Shh, don't worry about it. I'm here for you, okay? A shoulder to cry on, and all that jazz" he smiled at him, before adding, "always".<br>Blaine smiled, but it was clearly forced. He didn't say anything. Neither did Kurt, not for a little while.  
>"Hey… what was that you wanted to tell me? It seemed ... bad, if the crying indicates anything." He kept his voice chipper, but Blaine heard the concern in there. He shook his head.<br>"No, no, it's nothing… Just family trouble… I just needed to get it out, I guess.'  
>Kurt nodded, not convinced. "Well, if you ever need me… You know where to find me, right?"<br>Blaine laughed, his voice still trembling. Yeah, he knew where to find him.  
>"I… I think I should go" he muttered, and slowly got up. Kurt did the same, walking after him to the front door.<br>Blaine had his hand on the door handle when he turned and glared at Kurt.  
>"Before I go…. Can I try something?" he asked, his voice sounding vulnerable. Drowning in those hazel eyes, Kurt nodded slowly.<p>

And then Blaine's lips were on his, soft, gentle, moist from the tears. It was chaste and sweet and it ended just as quickly as it had begun. When Kurt found his voice, Blaine was already outside, just about to close the door.  
>"Blaine" he called, "we'll talk tomorrow, right?"<br>His fingers were placed on his lips, and he could still taste Blaine's tears. The dark haired boy turned to look at him, eyes filled with care and… hurt?  
>"Yeah' he said, 'tomorrow. Goodnight, Kurt.'<p>

He didn't hear Kurt's goodbye. All he heard was the voice in his head, yelling at him, for being a coward, for doing it again.

He was crying as he walked through the now empty house. He was no longer sobbing, but the tears just wouldn't stop; he had long ago given up on wiping them away.  
>His sight was blurred and his chest ached. Blaine was leaning against a wall now, and slowly he slid down until he sat on the floor.<p>

His eyes darted from the plain walls to the windows and glass door leading out to the garden.  
>The room looked so … huge now. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to be 8 years old again, curled up in the couch listening to his mother playing on the large piano in the corner, not a care in the world. He could pretend to be 11 again, sick and staying home for the day, with his mother caring for him, bringing him soup and hot chocolate despite it being a weekday. He could be a little kid again, placed on his father's lap, his hand clutching on a pillow in the bright room, filled with laughter, with pictures covering the walls, pictures of him and his sister, his parents.<p>

Blaine wanted nothing more than be little. To be able to run around in these rooms, up and down the stairs, stealing his sister's toys, play outside in the sun.  
>To be taken care of. He wanted someone else to handle his problems, wanted someone else to be responsible. He wanted life to be easy again.<p>

Instead he was leaving, leaving the town, the state, the country. He was leaving Kurt.  
>Blaine got up, his eyes sweeping over the room one last time before he left the house and got in the car.<p>

Blaine had run from school. From every problem he had ever faced. And now he was doing it again.  
>Running. Away from the one thing that made him happy, that made him feel like he had the courage he so badly needed.<p>

No one could say that Blaine Anderson was a brave man.

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>I... don't know. I just... If you like this, let me know. If you hate it, let me know. Just don't kill. I don't think being dead suits me much.


	2. The next day

**A/N: **O'hay. I cannot believe how long this took me, it's not even 2000 words in here. Welp. I'm just going to blame school and my social life(this surprises me too...)  
>Well, anyway. This is not edited, so yay, it probably sucks. Le sigh.<p>

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><p>They didn't talk the next day. Or the day after that. Blaine didn't show up for their weekly coffee date. He didn't answer any of his calls, he didn't text back.<p>

On Tuesday he was feeling nauseous, terrified by the thought of Blaine being repulsed by him, ignoring him or just growing tired of him.

Wednesday had him worried. Was Blaine sick? Maybe his phone died. Yeah, that was probably it. Blaine would be there for their coffee date at the Lima Bean, right? Right.

Except he wasn't. Kurt sat there alone, stupid tears stinging his eyes. He left the Lima Bean in a hurry, his Grande Non Fat Mocca in hand.

The medium drip he had ordered for Blaine was left untouched.

By Friday he was pissed. No, he was beyond pissed; he was fucking furious. Blaine had no right to walk in there, cling onto him and kiss him. Kiss him! He had no right to just leave, ignore him like this. It was Blaine who'd kissed him, not the other way around.

Fucking Blaine and his fucking lips and eyes and so called courage, which he apparently lacked and just fuck his everything.

Fuck.

By Sunday he was a wreck. He was sad, angry, scared, worried, hurt, but most of all he was confused.

He just couldn't understand what he'd done wrong. Was it something he'd said or had he… Kurt just didn't know.

"Hey, Kurt?" Finn's voice sounder weak and somewhat insecure.

Kurt sniffed, held back a sob and then tumbled out of bed, heading towards the door.

"Yeah" he mumbled, not opening, just leaning his forehead against it. He heard Finn shift on the other side.

"… I dunno, you wanna talk? You've been all … mad and stuff all week, and you're my brother, so y'know, I'm here for you and stuff. Unless it's about some guy, then maybe you should see Mercedes or Blaine or someth-"

"I get it" Kurt interrupted, "thanks, Finn, but I'm fine."

He ignored his stepbrother's voice; shut it out completely as he hid under his covers.

He'd love to talk to Blaine, he really would.

And lying there, hiding from the world, was when he decided.

If Blaine ignored him yet another day, he would go to Westerville right after school on Tuesday, find his house and just refuse to leave before Blaine talked to him.

Kurt reached for his phone again and dialled the number.

"Come on, pick up the phone!" he whispered.

Blaine didn't.

**Blaine didn't like Italy much. It was too hot, too bright, he didn't understand the language, there was no Kurt, he didn't know anyone, and he didn't want to get to know anyone. **

**All he wanted was Kurt.**

Not a word. Blaine hadn't texted him, called him or in any way contacted him, not for a week. Kurt'd been a wreck at school, constantly dicing into his bag for his phone whenever he thought it buzzed. Whenever he did receive a text, his face would lit up before it would fall again as he read a text from his dad or Mercedes or anyone who wasn't Blaine.

It hurt. A lot. It wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed meant to be this painful. Not after his first real kiss ever. His first kiss with Blaine.

Blaine wasn't supposed to act like this. He just wasn't.

Kurt cried on his way home. He was curled up in his seat, with Finn, who'd decided that Kurt was in no position to drive, occasionally glancing at him, worry evident in his eyes.

He didn't say anything, knowing Kurt well enough to know it would do no good.

Finn really was worried, though. It wasn't like Kurt to act like this, he was always so strong. Not even when Karofsky harassed him he acted like he was doing now. Not in public.

He'd though everything was better, after the wedding, and most of all, after Blaine. Finn looked at Kurt again, face red and flushed, eyes puffed, hair out of place, body shaking with violent sobs.

Clearly he'd been wrong.

Kurt stayed in his room all night, sending a text to Blaine every ten minutes. He tried to call too, but he didn't even reach the voice mail this time.

Kurt didn't cry himself to sleep that night, but only because he didn't sleep at all. He barely closed his eyes, and when Burt got downstairs at 6:30 AM, he was already up, making breakfast.

His hair was perfectly coiffed, his eyes were bright and a huge, obviously fake smile was plastered on his face. It was, in Burt's opinion, the scariest way to start ones day with.

«Err, Kurt?» he said, scratching his arm. His son glared him, silently judging him for interrupting his happy behaviour with his foul voice, blaming him for his gloomy mood and for Blaine leaving, for everything, all with a cheerful smile.

«Yes, dad?» he chippered, his voice an octave higher than normal.

Burt didn't know what to do. The look in Kurt's eyes told him, no, begged for him not to say anything, begged for him not to comment on his behaviour, for not to do anything that would send him tumbling down again. So Burt didn't. Instead of doing any of this, he sat down and simply said: «You're up early today.»

Grateful, Kurt nodded and served his dad some fruit. «Yeah, well, I'm really excited. I'm going to Westerville today, so I couldn't stay asleep any longer» he babbled. Burt, who'd been staring sceptically at his bowl of fruit, raised his brows at this. «You're meeting Blaine today? After school, I assume?» Kurt rolled his eyer at him. «Of course, dad. I wouldn't skip school just to see Blaine» he said, knowing Burt saw right through his lies. Burt brummed a little.

They said no more until Kurt left at 7, an hour before he really needed to. «Say hello to Blaine for me, will you?» Kurt froze at the door, holding tight onto the handle in a brief silence.  
>«... Sure, Dad. I will.» And then he left, with no intensions of going to school.<p>

He spent the two hour long ride to Westerville in utter and complete silence. He'd turned his phone off, knowing that Burt would have Finn spying on his and reporting his behavior all day. He also suspected that the whole Glee Club would try to contact him when he didn't show up for first period. He kept his eyes on the road, barely blinking at all. To b ehonest, he wasn't even sure what he'd actually say to Blaine. Hell, he wasn't entirely sure where the boy lived! He'd only been there once, months ago.

The best thing would probably be to just go find him at Dalton. Kurt smiled a little, remembering how badly he had wanted to transfer after meeting Blaine, Wes and David. _Wait a minute. Wes and David! _The thought hit him hard, causing him to let go of the steering wheel, and his car to cringe dangerously. «Shit!» he yelled at no one in particular. He stopped the car and grabbed his phone. _Idiot_, he thought furiously as he typed in PIN-code, _why haven't you thought of this before?_

Ignoring the amount of unread texts and missed calles, he found the number.

«Hey, wait up!» David shouted, already searching for his phone. Wes groaned and actually stamped his foot. «Just ignore it, we're already running late!» David completely ignored this and made a triumphant sound as he raised the phone to his ear. «It could be Blaine, he promised he'd call» he said excitingly. Wes groaned again, but he didn't argue. He really missed his friend.

«Hey Blaine, you - Oh, sorry, Kurt» Wes' eyes widened.  
>«Kurt?» he mouthed at David, who nodded in response.<br>«Mhm, ya', we've got lunch at 12, I guess we could meet you then? Sounds great, Kurt, we - no, there's no problem at all. See you lated then, bye!» David hung up, brows raised.  
>«Well, that was weird» he said casually.<br>«Weird, indeed» Wes agreed, «what did he want anyway?»  
>«He just wanted to talk, I think. He sounded kind of upset.» Wes nodded slowly.<br>«He's probably feeling a little lost without Blaine, so - FUCK! David, we gotta run!» The two boys ran through the halls, leaving the topic alone.

Kurt waited at the Lima Bean for hours. He had a lot of dead time, and most of the time he was just staring into his cup of coffee. He raised his head everytime the door opened, stupidily enough waiting - or maybe needing - to see Blaine walk in the door. Everytime his gaze wandered back to the coffee.

When Wes and David finally arrived, he smiled widely at them, but none of them missed the empty look in his eyes or the heavy bags under them.  
>«Hi, Kurt» Wes said softly, sitting down while David raced to the counter.<br>«Hi there» Kurt replied weakly, still smiling. They didn't utter a single word before David returned with coffee and bagels. The three boys sat in an awkward silence for a while, before David even more awkwardly chatted about the weather for some time. Wes rolled his eyes, before straightening up a little.  
>«So, Kurt... Uhm, what did you want to talk about?» he asked, only to get a confused look in respond. He cleared his throath and suddently Kurt seemed to realise.<br>«Oh, sorry, I'm kind of out of it today. Well, uhm, I was just... Blaine. It's Blaine.»

Both Wes and David raised their brows at this. They'd expected some more bully problems, not this. «Errr, okay, well... What about Blaine?» Kurt bit his lip, eyes focused on Wes' fingers on the table. «It's just... He's ignoring me. He's been doing so for over a week, and I just don't know what to do.» His voice was low, almost like a whisper. David looked relieved, he'd expected Kurt to tell him that he was madly in love with Blaine. Or something. «Oh, he hasn't called us yet either, even though he promised to -» Kurt's head snapped up at this, but he didn't interrupt.  
>«Yeah» Wes said, «I guess he's been too busy, getting settled in and all. Moving all the way to Italy is tough, I suppose.»<p>

Kurt just stared at them, mouth wide open. Now David looked a little worried, but just as he reached out for him, he spoke.  
>«I-Italy? He moved to Italy?» His voice was shaking now, and he was obviously fighting back tears.<br>«Uhm, yeah, he left last Sunday night. Didn't you know?»  
>«No» Kurt whispered, shaking his head, «he didn't tell me. He didn't tell me <em>anything<em>.» He stood up, his back straight, head held high.  
>«Thanks for telling me, I'm sorry for troubling you. I've gotta go.»<p>

And then he left out of the coffee shop, just like Blaine had left his house, the country and Kurt's life.

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><p><strong>AN**: Aaand hi again! I just wanted to tell you that this story is probably going to be in 3 parts - possibly 4, uhm. I have the ending all figured out and stuff.  
>I also wanted to mention that <em>no<em>, Blaine did not go to Italy because Darren speaks Italian. One of my friends recently moved to Italy, and I got the idea for this story when I thought of her moving. :)  
>p.s: I am also fleeing the internet. Posting stuff like this is so scary.<p> 


	3. A matter of time

A/N: And once again have I neglected this story, oh well. Here it is, anyway. Enjoy. And shit.  
>I also have some problems with the site, so I am terribly sorry for how this story looks like right now. I will fix it. Probably.<p>

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of it's characters.

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><p><strong>At this point Blaine didn't care all that much. The first weeks he'd been completely lost, but he found his way around the town quickly enough. He was a fast learner too, so it took him only three months to speak Italian fluently. He met lots of new people – they seemed to be pulled towards him, charmed by his smile and manners and his all over behaviour. This time, however, he had made up his mind before even introducing himself in class or at the local mall or anywhere, really – he wouldn't let anyone in. He wouldn't go through it all again, he wouldn't <em>feel <em>again. Not really, not like that; not like with Kurt.**

**So 6 months after arriving in Italy, he was mainly just tired from hiding, from pushing people away without really _losing_them and acting like he wasn't affected by the flirting he constantly was the subject for; tired of everything.**

**On top of this he felt so utterly lonely and alone all the time. From time to time he felt so _small_, needing to be held and whenever this happened, he would drive to the nearest city and get really, really ridiculously drunk and find someone to make out with, someone who could be what he wanted and needed, to provide him the affection he craved.**

**When he'd wake up the next day, he would sneak out of some guy's flat, always on the verge of crying, not knowing what he had actually done, memories of firm lips and a sweet, but masculine scent, soft skin haunting him; painfully aware that those memories did not belong to last night.**

**While driving home, he would sing, make up yet another excuse and something about spending the night with some random girl to get his parents to shut up, plan his weekend, think of poetry, replan his weekend, _anything_ to get his mind to focus on other things than the dull ache****in ****his chest, knowing that the only person he knew could fix him was the one he had left behind so many months ago.**

Kurt didn't smile anymore. Not these days. Not really. He hadn't in a while now. The first few weeks he had felt bad about it, he truly had, but he realised that it was no use in doing so. He wasn't happy, he was fucking miserable, and he honestly did not see any reason to act differently.

Occasionally he would force out a laugh, he would smile at some joke, but it never reached his eyes. He lost weight. For six months he acted like someone else, and it was like he'd broke.

And then it changed. For six months he was moping around, and when he woke up one day, he didn't spend an hour thinking about Blaine and the reasons why he left him behind. He didn't cry, he simply _… woke._  
>So when he looked himself in the mirror that day, it was like the fog he'd been lost in for so long had lifted and he <em>saw <em>himself. Bloodshot eyes, purple bags beneath them, lifeless hair, hollow cheeks... It came as a shock.

Yes. Kurt Hummel had been stuck in a funk. Everyone knew that. At this point, no one expected him to recover fully.

He reached for his moisturising products, a small smile on his lips. He'd show Blaine that he did not need him. He'd show them all that he never broke; he never had, he never would.

When arriving at school, he smiled widely, and his clear eyes were shining.  
>Kurt Hummel was back.<p>

**Blaine'd been told that it was only a matter of time before he'd screw up big time. He'd shrugged and walked away, barely registering his father's shouts.**

**The only thing about his father that bothered him was that he had no problems with dragging his family to the other side of the world. Sure, Blaine had been the one to suggest moving -although not that bluntly-, but he hadn't expected Thomas Anderson to listen to him.  
><em>It shouldn't have surprised me<em>, he thought bitterly, _he just wanted to get away from those who knew about me. _**

**He had never considered himself as a bitter person. A coward, yes, weak, sure, but not bitter. However, these last months had changed that.  
><strong>

**He wasn't Blaine anymore. Not like he used to be; he was much less dapper, less polite and polished. He left home for weeks a time, he drank a lot more than anyone should, he smoked cigarettes, he wasn't the same person who had once fallen in love with Kurt Hummel.  
>And he told himself that he was perfectly fine with that. <strong>

**He wasn't, though. He knew he wasn't. **

**Blaine sighed deeply, and stared into his glass of wine. He'd gone to a local bar, ordered some wine, and now he … waited.  
>Waited for someone to pick him up, pick up the pieces of his heart that were shattered and mend it. Waiting for life to pass by. Just... Waiting. <strong>

"**You come here often?" someone to his left asked him. He turned his head, grinning a little. Of all the pick up lines in the world... **

**"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do" he said, lifting his glass as his eyes roamed over the boy beside him. Tall, tan, but still paler than most of the Italians Blaine had seen, dark brown hair and green eyes. Blaine's eyes lingered at his firm looking lips.  
>He watched as those lips curled up in a smile. <strong>

**"I knew that, actually" he said casually, sitting down beside him, "I've seen you here plenty of times. Are you even old enough to drink?" he said, signalising for the bartender to bring him a drink. He was probably a regular, Blaine figured, as the bartender nodded and then brought him a rum and coke. Blaine raised his eyebrows.  
>"I'm not much of a drinker, really" the Mystery man said, noticing the action. Blaine shrugged. <strong>

**"I'm seventeen" he said simply. Mystery Man offered his hand.  
>"You look fifteen. I'm Andrea Allesandri" he smiled, ignoring Blaine's snicker.<br>**

"**Blaine Anderson" he replied, shaking Andrea's hand.  
>"Ah, American, am I right? Explains the accent. So... Blaine, you wanna go somewhere? My flat is just down the street."<strong>

**Blaine eyed him again, before shrugging once more.**  
><strong>"Why not" he muttered and emptied his glass, "it's not like I have something better to do."<strong>

**Andrea smiled gently, and grabbed his jacket before leading the way out, Blaine following.**

**He knew he shouldn't go with him. He would, without a doubt, regret it tomorrow. But honestly, he had nothing to lose.**

**He would screw up his life big time by acting like this, just like his father had told him.**  
><strong>It was only a matter of time.<strong>

He was... happy? Yeah, that was it. He felt _happy_, like before, like with Blaine, only this time, he knew he wouldn't be abandoned. He smiled a little, leaning forward and grabbing Christian's hand again.

He grinned at him, one hand ruffling Kurt's hair, the other pulling the boy closer to his own body. Kurt closed his eyes, feeling his _boyfriend_'s hot breath on his neck, the sensation of chapped lips dragging over his smooth skin. He gasped softly, holding onto Christian's body like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. It certainly felt like it, when his legs were wrapped tightly around Kurt's waist, their chests pressed flush together, lips swollen and their bodies _aching _with need.

Kurt had never felt like this before, never.

_I could stay like this forever_, he thought as he growled before capturing Christian's lips once more; hands roaming all over both of them. Low groans and whimpers filled the room and he bit his shoulder lightly before hiding his face into his shoulder.

Their heavy panting was the only thing that could be heard now, until Christian broke the silence.  
>"Happy eighteenth birthday, babe" he whispered in his air.<p>

Kurt grinned widely.

**He'd reached that point where he was left on his own now. There were no one waiting for him, no one to kiss him, hold him, _love _him. Not anymore. **

**His parents? Yeah, he'd just walked out of their house. His new... friends? He'd been ignoring them for over a month. His lovers? He'd never had one, not like that. It'd always been nothing but sex, and he'd walked away from that too. **

**They tried to mend it, they did. His friends would find him, drag him with them, just to do something, to live. His partners had contacted him, willing him to come back. After some time, they'd all given up; they'd left him.**

**And to be honest, Blaine preferred it like this. He'd much rather be left behind any day by those people who meant almost nothing to him, than be the one who left.**

**It was no one but him now. Blaine and his bravery.  
>Just waiting. Always waiting.<strong>

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><p>AN: And there! Well. Just one part left, welp. Uhm, I hope you liked it. Tell me if you did. Tell if you hate it. I want to know either way.

AND oh! If anyone should feel like like edit all of my typos in this story, feel free to do so. I have officially given up on English.


	4. Wonder if you are still out there

**A/N: **I suppose this is me not giving a damn about this story anymore. I'll have to write yet another chapter, because, well, it happened that way, and I have completely given up on grammar. And I am also adding some lyrics in this one? What? Sigh. :)

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><p><em>Lurer på om du fins der ute nå<br>Sender eg mine tankar  
>Kjenner du de då?<br>Send meg et hint så skal du få _

Life had been kind to Kurt Hummel in many ways. 27 years old, and he still looked fabulous. Well, now a day it really wasn't that hard to look good at any age, but he was still proud. To this day he still claimed that his moisturising routines as a teenager was the reason behind his flawless skin. He saw no need to tell them that he still went through the same routine twice a day. Flawless is flawless.

He'd been working for Versace since the summer between sophomore and senior year in college and by now he'd climbed fairly high. And although he didn't care that much about his job itself, it was most certainly necessary for him to keep it until he had the right amount of powerful contacts and start his own fashion brand. And, well, he _is _Kurt Hummel after all, so he was nearly there. He was so, so close he could almost physically _feel _his dreams coming true.

However, life hadn't been too kind to him on other aspects. His personal was shitty. You know how in cheap literature the female main character's life's always in ruins and she has an awful past and crazy ex boyfriends, too many to really count?  
>Yeah, well, it was kind of like that; only he didn't have a mysterious, tall dark hero to save him.<br>Not that people hadn't _tried –_ hence the crazy ex boyfriends.

Except for Christian, none of Kurt's love interests lasted more than 3 months. He didn't sleep around, no, really, he had _standards_, a reputation to maintain, but he had quite a lot of guys hanging around.  
>And he very much preferred it that way. He had them on a string, and if anyone got hurt, it wasn't him.<p>

And Blaine Anderson? Kurt hadn't thought about him for years. Or so he claimed.  
>Truth to be told, he thought about the other boy – <em>man<em>, by this point – all the time. Whenever he found someone new. Whenever he heard the newest Katy Perry single (and how was she even making music?). Whenever he had a cup of coffee, or when he went grocery shopping and suddenly remembered Blaine's excited voice, going on and on about that new brand of ice cream, and how cool wouldn't it be if they'd split that?

Despite all of this, all this constant reminders, Kurt didn't really miss him. Not anymore. Sure, he missed being that close to someone, to share all of his feelings and memories and experiences with, but he did most certainly not miss Blaine.

Nope. Not at all.

You see, the thing that had changed the most about Kurt Hummel was the lying. He had never lied when he was young. Not about his homework, money, where he was going and how on Earth had that kitten found its way to your bedroom, young man?

He just didn't lie.

But he grew up. The boy who always spoke his mind, who _always _stayed truthful, no matter what, had grown up.

And to be perfectly honest, he hated it. The lies, his attitude, his job (but it was necessary, and so it be he never quit), the men, his flat (because really, he could do better), his colleagues, his new friends, just everything. The only thing he'd never change was his family, but he had troubles staying in touch with them, too.

Kurt missed a lot of things. The witty remarks of his youth – at some point his bitchiness had disappeared –, he missed his father, he missed Rachel and Finn and Brittany, but most of all he missed Blaine.

Truth to be told, Kurt didn't know where Blaine was. Was he in Italy still, had he moved to somewhere else in Europe, or had he come back home, to America? Hell, he didn't even know if Blaine was still _alive_.

He had given up contacting him so long ago he didn't even know where to begin looking for him now. He was, in lack of a better word, lost. He lived his life, day after day, working up the _courage_ to go looking for his future, and most importantly, Blaine.

/

While Kurt had lived a fairly good life, successful to some degree, with enough attention, affection and even some sort of love in his life, Blaine had not been so lucky.

His parents had given up on him, and it wasn't like he could blame them; yet he still did. He blamed his parents for everything that had gone wrong in his life, even now, years after the last conversation they had.

In Blaine's eyes it was simple. If his father hadn't been so _ashamed _of his gay son, he wouldn't have agreed to move from Ohio so willingly. If his mother hadn't been too _weak_, she would have tried to talk some sense into them, because, _seriously_, fleeing the continent is a pretty fucking stupid plan.

If he hadn't been so goddamn _scared _of his feelings, of commitment, so scared of _Kurt_, he would never have planted the idea in his father's head in the first place.

If he had had any of the _courage _he constantly preached about, he would've been with Kurt, for months, years, perhaps.

Maybe they'd be together right now.

Blaine knew that he and Kurt were meant to be, he'd seen it when they were just kids, had seen Kurt's admiration, his love, and instead of embracing it, instead of letting his heart decide, he'd let his brain take over – and not even the very rational part of it.

He hadn't been in Italy for long. The day he turned 18 he gathered what he had of money and went back to Ohio. For a short time he had pictured going back home to find Kurt and apologise, properly.

In his haze, mostly created by booze and short-lived happiness, he had completely forgotten that Kurt was one year ahead of him and already in college.

In New York.

He hadn't realised this before the taxi was outside of Kurt's house. He had told the driver to take him back to the airport.  
>With finding Kurt as his only intention. Blaine left for New York.<p>

/

He might have been naïve, thinking he would ever find Kurt in the city. To him, Kurt was everything, the one good thing; the light that kept him alive. To the city, Kurt was just another citizen it had swallowed whole.

That's what it felt like. Like the city had devoured him, just to keep him out of Blaine's reach.

He'd looked everywhere. He had visited every school for performing arts, and for design, every school he thought Kurt might have applied to.

If he'd stayed in Ohio, he would've known what school Kurt went to. He would've visited him every chance he got, every holiday, every long weekend.  
>He would have be there, always.<p>

But he hadn't.

And even though he was there now, Kurt didn't know. Kurt would probably never know, unless they miraculously spotted each other, in the crowd, surrounded by the smell of coffee and human beings in a sea of people.

/

Blaine dreamt about it.

He dreamt about finding him every night, and he would be _happy _and feel _complete _again when he finally, finally had the other boy in his arms again.

Waking up broke him every time.

/

He searched for weeks with no result. Whenever he caught a glimpse of chestnut coloured hair his heart would beat frantically, just to immediately freeze when he, once again, realised that it wasn't his Kurt.

After three weeks in New York, he was out of money. For a brief moment he considered leaving the city, but he was tired of running away.

He was always running away.

/

Blaine worked at a shop during day, and he spent the evenings searching for Kurt, giving up and then he'd hook up with some guy, desperate for affection, always imagining Kurt.

/

He'd done this for years now. He was 26 years old, and he was _giving up, _giving up on dreams of Kurt, of a future with him.

Not once in the 8 years he'd been in New York had he seen Kurt, or heard of him. For all Blaine knew, he wasn't even in the city.

He might have moved to Paris, or Milan, or somewhere fancy and big and bright enough for Kurt Hummel.

Blaine liked to think so. That Kurt had succeeded, that he was happy now, wherever he was. He just wished he could be there with him, sharing it.

He also liked to think that Kurt was in New York, searching for _him_, the same way Blaine had looked for him. That he was missing him, always missing him, neither of them feeling complete.

/

Neither of them was looking anymore when they meet. Kurt hadn't for years; Blaine was new to this, so used to searching _all the time _he had to walk with his head bowed, eyes turned down.

It wasn't anything like Blaine had ever dreamt before. They didn't catch each other's gaze; their eyes didn't meet over the sea of people he had always imagined. Time didn't stop, no smiles were shared, and no tears were shed.

Blaine simply walked straight into him, eyes focused on passing shoes. He barely had time to register just how nice those shoes there were before his body connected to another one.

"I'm so sorry, I was – Blaine?" the other body said, voice high. His head snapped up.

Hazel eyes met blue ones.

Pale skin. Chestnut hair. Pink cheeks, lips.

_Kurt_, Blaine thought. And then…

_Home. _

He didn't say anything, just stared at him. For so long he had longed for this moment, and now that it was there, he didn't know what to do.

He watched Kurt's expression change from surprised to hurt, excitement, anger and then … nothing. His face went blank, all emotion wiped away.

"I'm terribly sorry, I thought you were someone I knew once," he said coolly, eyes not even showing a flicker of _anything_, "my mistake."

Kurt took a few steps away and passed him with no other sign of recognition. Blaine's hand shot out to grab his arm as he turned, pure desperation painted on his face, twisting each of his features.

"No – no, Kurt, it is _me_, it's Blaine, and it's _you_, oh my God, I've been looking for you forever and –"

"Stop it. Just stop it!" Kurt shouted, backing away, tearing his arm out of Blaine's grip, like his touch was burning him. His eyes shone fiercely, and if looks could kill, Blaine would surely be dead by now.

"But, _Kurt_, I've been here for so long, and I never found you and I never stopped looking, not really and – it's just… I've missed you."

Blaine looked up at him with pleading eyes, wanting so badly to touch him, embrace him, smell him, just wanting to experience the feeling of being loved by this perfect boy, this ridiculously stunning man. Knowing he could, if he dared, made his skin itch.

Kurt opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. His eyes never left Blaine, his gaze rearing over his body; legs, chest, neck, arms and then finally his face again.

He looked sad now, Blaine noticed. His hand automatically reached for Kurt's, but he turned his head away.

"I'm not… I'm busy. I have to go" he whispered, his voice drowning in the sound of people, of New York, of life.

"Nonononono, Kurt, please, I only just found you again, please, don't go, we can – we can go, to my flat, it's just around the corner, we can talk, just please, don't leave me here. _I only just found you again,_" he repeated, voice broken and desperate.

Kurt inhaled sharply, the look on his face now furious looking.  
>"To your <em>flat<em>? You're trying to make me go to your flat to talk? What kind of man do you even think I am? Even if you weren't you, I wouldn't have gone with you! God, you're so fucking stupid – you know what? You're the worst – just piss off. Fuck you, Blaine."

And with that, he left, disappearing in the crowd.

Blaine stood there, people almost knocking him over. A smile slowly found it way to his face, his lips curling upwards.

Kurt remembered him still, and he had acknowledged him. They were in the same city and if he'd found him once, he could find him again.

/

_Lurer på om du fins der ute nå  
><em>_Sender eg mine tankar  
>Kjenner du de då?<br>Send meg et hint så skal du få  
>Eg vannar mine plantar og pleier det eg sår<br>Sekundene tikker, minuttene går  
>Og det går dagar, og det går år<br>Og den som lever får sjå_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So, uhm. Yes. The song is called _Hjerteknuser_(Heartbreaker) and I do not own it; it's property of Kaizers Orchestra. You should all listen to it on YouTube, there are English translations of the song and stuff.


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